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If
Poetry were just
a
Bouquet of Words |
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If
poetry were just
a bouquet of words,
I’d rather take
a bunch of Kangkong leaves,
or a sheaf of sweet potato shoots
gleaned from some patch near a sewer
or filched from some vendor’s basket
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because I am hungry
and hunger’s stomach
is indelicate.
Long has poverty
left me insensate,
so please, revered poets
of the land,
spare me your verses
if poetry were just
a bouquet of words.
--
Jesus Manuel Santiago |
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| Alice
in the Poet's Heartland |
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Once
upon a time, when fairy tales spun magic
that brought to life
ALICE in WONDERLAND, hearts fluttered
about
where poets played with metaphoric reality.
And so she found the wonders of poetry
in her soul,
Alice was never the same since.The
love for the art allows better understanding
of intricacies of soul’s existence
in our everyday lives.
Technological advancement
has made communication virtually impersonal
yet;
there remains a poetic implication in
reciprocal exchanges.
If we were to exclude imagination from
spoken and written languages, the |
signals
transmitted would constitute variable
messages from
highly complex automated machines that
we inadvertently become
should creativity remain ignored.To
recognize the innate poet within
is to acknowledge the pervasive influence
of the soul at work
from the very essence of our being.Poetry
is a sensuous experience
with an enhanced spiritual dimension
added to the journey that it takes
to revel in the delightful
nuances of being alive.
“Me, a poet?” Alice asked
the rabbit with pink eyes
“Oh dear, oh dear. I shall be
late!” he replied while he fished
out a watch from his waistcoat pocket.
Alice followed him down through the
rabbit hole
where she found
a poetry book with a large label
that screamed “READ ME!”And
so she did
just the way the caterpillar taught
her how to.
Now some of the poems were easily understood,
and some seemed they were
never meant to be understood.
But Alice read on until she become so
tiny
she fitted with the words of the poems
in the book. “Look!” her
tiny voice bellowed from the book covers.
“I am the poem.”
Now who is to question the metaphor
Alice has become
in the poet’s heartland? |
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